2012 has been designated by the United Nations as The Year of the Indigenous People, a recognition of their cultures and connections to sacred places, as well as their forced disconnections from those places. I am coming to understand them.
I write this posting while visiting Madeline Island on Lake Superior. My parents once owned the house I’m in and the land on which it sits. It was their home for ten years, establishing what was for them a place of beauty, rest, inspiration and spirituality beyond their imaginations. Returning to this spot after an absence of almost thirty years has yielded an entire range of emotions: excitement at the return itself, to re-visit the place my mother and father regarded as home; curiosity in seeing how things have changed over the course of a generation; wonderment at the still-pristine forests and cliffs which constitute the Island; a sense of awe at how changeless the land has remained, even after decades of pounding from the lake and sky; wistfulness in recalling the Island as the honeymoon destination for my wife and me, some forty years ago; sadness in recalling my parents’ decision to leave the property with the advancement of age; joy in reliving the memories of the site I always regarded as my favorite place on earth.
Reflecting on these things, I have discovered a new dimension to them, a new feeling about both their meaning and their importance. I have always understood the natural beauty of the surroundings and the value of stealing away to such a place of retreat. I have felt the spiritual renewal inherent in the forest and lakeside. But what I have begun to recognize is my connectedness to this place that extends well beyond its physical dimensions. There is a sanctity about it, something that reaches far beyond immediate senses, a sacredness which doesn’t simply please or soothe the soul, but actually becomes part of it. Sciences may posit that cohesion between place and person exists in poetry alone, but experiences teach a very different conclusion. In a real and physical way, I find that I am actually part of this place, and it is a part of me. Portions of my life are here. Portions of my lineage are here. I have taken from this place and I have given to it. Neither the land nor I can ever be quite the same after we once connected.
It occurs to me that this is also the foundation for the centuries-old claims of disenfranchisement by Indigenous peoples in Nicaragua and throughout the entire world. Losses of language or land constitute egregious diminishment whenever they may occur; it is no less profound a loss than the extinction of an entire species of life, evolution which we often fight with tenacious resolve. But for the Indigenous, the resistance is not simply about loss of land, but the loss of an entire identity, of connectedness, of culture, of the soul itself.
In our own ways, and often without conscious effort, we all seek to discover access to the wholeness of life, that part of our existence which ties us into the fabric of the universe, a place where we belong, where our presence makes sense of our being. We share a deep longing for such connectedness, to help make sense of a world that often feels very disconnected and senseless. Loss of a people’s sacred places destroys such ties. The injustices suffered by the Indigenous extend far beyond the value of lands; their more important claims articulate the unjust destruction of their essential values and patrimony.
It is likely an unfair comparison to make between a small parcel of woods that once belonged to my family and ancestral Indigenous lands; one relationship was forged over a mere forty years, while the other has been developed since the dawn of Indigenous existence. But the importance of walking where my father walked, of knowing the places that my mother held as precious, and retracing my own footsteps as a young man- all within the context of this inland sea and its grounded blemishes- has clarified something elementally important to me. We are part of the whole, each with our own linkages to this cosmos we inhabit. And those links are our lifelines, our context for living, a portion of what defines us and makes us both importantly unique and universally the same. Removing the links weakens the chain of all of our lives.
Yesterday I worked on the wood perimeter fence that my father built. I split wood from trees that my mother may have planted. In the evening we sat quietly in the room where my entire family gathered decades ago. At night I heard the gentle lapping of the lake water against the foot of the cliffs and I gave thanks for the sacred places in my life….
The temperatures are reaching the mid- to upper nineties again this week, feeling very Nicaragua-like much of the time. But this is the kind of weather we dream about all winter long and I am careful not to complain about the weather. Just as in the cold months, I try to ignore the extremes and go about my usual daily routines. That includes a noontime workout, and today’s regimen called for a 5 mile run. Properly hydrated and sun-protected, I ran a route that takes me along a cold trout stream, into a forest that winds its way up one of the high limestone bluffs for which Decorah is famous. It’s an exhilarating trail, one of almost incomparable beauty, cool on a hot day and protected from the searing danger of a July sun.
Whenever I reach the summit of the bluff, I pause for a moment of reflection. I tell myself that it’s because the vista overlooking the trout stream and forest below is so stunning; the reality might just as easily have to do with the fact that I need a breather by the time I hit the top. Whatever the impetus, I love the quiet moment up there, surrounded by Nature that is breathtaking (perhaps the real reason for my gasping?), where I am absolutely alone with my thoughts, and devoid of any distractions or needs to be anything but myself. It usually includes a feeling of gratitude and self-satisfaction, that I have been healthy and motivated enough to run to this spot on even the hottest of days; I admit to an unwarranted feeling of pride. That’s the way I felt today on top, looking down into the valley, grateful for the chance to do this, pleased at myself for doing it, feeling accomplished and strong and standing tall up there.
Strangely, there’s another feeling that sweeps over me in such moments. About the time I’m feeling that strong, invincible sensation of accomplishment and human joy, I am struck with the realization that, of course, such moments do not present themselves to everyone. There are perhaps many residents of my own community who will never reach the summit of this place, let alone less fortunate people anywhere in the world who do not have the luxury of practicing wellness, maintaining fitness, cultivating strength and a sense of achievement. And quickly I am subdued and humbled for my feelings of self-importance. I cannot share such experiences with others, I do not have the power to take away the injustices, limitations and oppressions which prevent the ascension of so many, I cannot even explain these vast differences in life’s opportunities and blessings.
And it makes me feel very small, no matter where I might stand, no matter what obstacles I may have overcome to stand there. I do not presume to believe that my acquaintances in Nicaragua would harbor the slightest interest in climbing to the top of Twin Springs park; indeed, there are places in Nicaragua which are as spectacular as any sites in the world. It’s the metaphor of my ascent which picks at my consciousness and steals the mantle of self-fulfillment from my shoulders.
So, here there is no call to action, no prodding to do anything other than recognize the inequity of it all, the imbalance which is an omnipresent fact of our lives. We are worthy of the joys of achievement from our endeavors, but we also deserve an acute awareness of where all of that fits into the world at-large. Standing tall is a good feeling to have, but it can also cast a shadow, one to make me small….
Our work in Nicaragua has been made up of wins and losses over the years, just like in any enterprise. I cheer the groups which seem to embrace the principles of transparency and participation and holistic well-being and I mourn the groups that at first step up to that difficult model and then back away, whether through habit or urgency or seduction. It’s hard for me to remember that the organizations with whom we work are not U.S. businesses, and that I can’t really look at them through the same lens that I might use to consider the workings of a company here. But there is one need that seems to apply to developing organizations no matter what structure they may have and wherever they may be located. That essential component is the ability to envision a future.
It’s important for you to note that I did not say the future, but a future. The future implies whatever is destined to be, something beyond both our control and our ability to foresee. A future suggests a point in time to come which is subject to our influence if not complete control. An organization is subject to all of the laws of Nature which will shape the future, but it maintains a hold on many of the cultural, social and relationship elements of a future. Good-to-great organizations around the world have come to recognize and embrace that difference. A future is made up of elements beyond our control, but many are of our own making.
That truth applies equally to any of the four priority initiatives undertaken by Winds of Peace. In order for women of Nicaragua to achieve an equal status with equal rights, they must first be able to envision a future where gender issues are not a hindrance to personal development, but rather an awareness of the enormous untapped resources within the country. If Indigenous communities seek to regain their ancient cultural and property rights as the original inhabitants of their lands, they must first be able to envision a future where they are willing to truly speak from the ancestral voice, as one, in bridging past and future generations within the framework of cultural stewardship. If the rural agricultural poor ever escape from the factors which isolate and oppress them, it may be a result of their ability to recognize their collaborative strengths and a future view of broad engagement and participation from peasants who are able to separate short-term relief from long-term transformation. In order for education to lead Nicaragua into a future instead of the future, leaders throughout the country will need to see education not as a problem with few solutions, but as the solution to a great many problems facing the entire nation. Those changes in perspective alone reshape a future in ways beyond measure.
But in each case, the change comes first from envisioning a future that is wanted and then from committing to that vision. The visioning is more than unstructured dreaming; it consists of objective components that are refined to be specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and timely. Only if the resulting vision is compelling enough, will it have the strength to garner the commitment from others that will be required, because that dedication forms the essential energy needed to swim against a tide of status quo. Creating a future is neither automatic nor easy, but few worthwhile outcomes ever are. Just ask the members of countless enterprises that go out of business every year.
Whenever faced with a faltering initiative in Nicaragua, I ask myself whether there was a future in mind at its inception, or whether the request for partnership was born of short-term, immediate need. I wonder whether an initial vision became somehow corrupted by circumstance or self. It’s often difficult to discern where a group is in its thinking, and some folks have become very accomplished at telling a compelling story without a compelling vision behind it. Our evaluations will never be perfect. But the ones who stand to lose the most are not the members of Winds of Peace or the countless other funders who work in Nicaragua. It’s the organizations themselves, and the individuals within, who run the risk of having to face the future, whatever unknowns that may bring….
It seems as though most of us spend much of our lives looking for some special key to happiness. In the choices we make about education, spouses/partners, career, where we live, what we buy, how we recreate, there is a relentless search for experiences that will somehow validate and reward us to peace and contentment. It’s the universal search, really, and there is an entire industry that has been built around helping us to identify the keys and unlock the doors. Man’s search for meaning and happiness is as much a part of our makeup as DNA.
But like many puzzles that we encounter in life, the answers may be a lot less complex than we make them out to be. Sometimes the solutions are right in front of us and we simply need someone or something to lift the veil which prevents us from seeing clearly. The lyrics from a song by The Eagles have always underscored this truth for me:
Just remember this my girl when you look up in the sky, You can see the stars and still not see the light.
and
So oftentimes it happens that we live our lives in chains, That we never even know we have the key. (“Already Gone” by The Eagles)
So when I received a translation of comments made by Father Fernando Cardenal, I was confronted again with this puzzling reality. Father Cardenal is a revered figure by nearly all who know him, and each time that I have been privileged to hear or read his words, I have been moved to both reflection and action. (I have referenced and quoted him here previously.) In these newest comments, he addressed his words to “the youth of North America,” a frequent audience of his in Nicaragua whenever they travel there. Within his words, I was reminded once again about a universal truth which remains agonizingly difficult for most of us to embrace. It conflicts with the pursuits of our daily lives, it is counter-intuitive to our inclination toward self-protection, and it carries an irony almost too frustrating to contemplate. The truth that Father Cardenal presents so gently yet profoundly is that what we seek for meaning and fulfillment- happiness- in our lives is absolutely, positively within our reach. It is found in acts of giving.
I offer Father Cardenal’s words here for your own consideration and reflection. Like any words spoken or written, they can be absorbed or rejected, embraced or ignored. But they are offered here from a man who, over eight decades of life, has experienced as many dimensions of life as possible by one man. Sometimes the sheer weight of experience and wisdom commands our attention, despite whatever message we may prefer hearing:
Message to the young people of North American
For 30 years I have been giving talks to young university students here in Nicaragua and in the United States. Because of that, I know you very well, but above all I have a lot of love for you, and that is why I want you to be very happy.
Reality teaches us that in your youth you freely choose to lead either a joyful life or a miserly life. You surely know examples of both cases. This is the dramatic reality about human freedom, and is one of the great attributes inherent to the human person. But it is also a dangerous attribute. We always have to make decisions about our lives.
The distinguished Greek philosopher Aristotle, before the time of Christ, in the first book that was written in humanity about Ethics, said that the purpose of ethics was happiness. In other words, that an honest life leads as a consequence to a happy life.
Jesus of Nazareth said one day that “there is more happiness in giving than receiving”. He did not say that it was bad to receive, in no way, because receiving is something that is very good: receiving appreciation, understanding, love, a Christmas gift, all this is very good. What Jesus said is better, is that giving produces more happiness than receiving. In the act of giving to others, be it support, understanding, love, solidarity we will always find more happiness than in just receiving.
The great Indian poet and mystic Rabindranat Tagore wrote this poem: “I was asleep, and dreamt that life was happiness. I woke up, and I saw that life was service. I served, and saw that service was joy. “
After reflecting on these three statements of very wise people, you need to be very intelligent, to choose very well the path of your life, to build into your existence a great, authentic and profound happiness. In your life you have before you two paths: a happy life or a ruined life, lost forever. You have to choose.
If I use my watch to hammer a nail, I will completely destroy the watch. The watch is not made to do the work of a hammer. If I live in a selfish fashion, I will destroy myself just as the watch is destroyed. The human being is not created to be selfish, centered only in consumption, in the purely superficial pleasures that do not reach the soul. Only in love are we able to fully fulfill ourselves as human persons, simply because we are created for love.
In Boston College they told me that cats have nine lives. If we were cats, we could use the first lives to do stupid things, even to get involved in drugs and alcohol, it would not matter that these lives were destroyed, because other lives would come afterwards that I could live intelligently. But we are not cats. We only have one life. Let us live it with a lot of intensity, because it goes by quickly, and above all let us live it intelligently, in order to us build ourselves a life of happiness all the way to the end.
When I was studying in Mexico preparing for my ordination as a Jesuit priest, a classmate told me that he had visited a friend of his in the hospital who was seriously ill. The youth in the bed was looking at his hands and was rubbing them. His mother told him, “they are clean, don’t worry, we just cleaned them for you.” So the young sick man said to his mom, “that isn’t what I am concerned about. What really concerns me is seeing that I’m dying with empty hands, I haven’t done anything important in my life.” How sad it must be to die like that! You are young, but whatever day death comes for you, I hope it doesn’t find you with your hands empty. You have time to be filling your hands with very beautiful, important works, to the benefit of your families, your communities, your country, and also why not consider the entire world. Remember that joy is found in service. But never forget to serve the poorest, those excluded from society, those who have no future and their permanent state is hunger, pain and sadness without hope. Remember that the test on the last day of life, the great exam, the only subject matter it will have will be what we have done for the poor (Gospel of St. Matthew, chapter 25:31 and following).
In the Gospels the Greek word “ochlos” is used, which means: “poor or the poor multitude”. In the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke this term appears 126 times. This shows us the intensity of the work of Jesus with these people. We never see Jesus conversing with the high priests and priests of the Jewish religion, nor is he seen talking with the large landowners, he never appears in the cities of Sepphoris or Caesarea, the largest and most important of Galilee. He is only found walking through the towns of the poor peasants of Galilee, receiving the “Ochlos”, the poorest, those excluded from society, those who no one cared about, but Jesus taught them with his word and with his life that they were important for God, that he is merciful, compassionate and a forgiver of sins. He taught them that the best friends of God are the poor and the sinners. Jesus called this message “Good News”. The translation of the Greek word for this is “gospel”. This God incarnate in Jesus said, as a synthesis of his conception of life: “I have not come to be served, but to serve.” And he also said: “I tell you these things so that my joy might be in you, and that this joy might reach its fullness in you.” We will always find service united with joy, with happiness.
There is an experience that could happen to you in more or less 15 or 20 years from now. An adolescent son or daughter might come up to you and ask, “dad, mom, where were you in January of 2015?” “Where were you in May of 2017?” How sad it would be for you that if on that day you would have to say to your son or daughter, “I was not there!” And how sad that you would then hear from that son, that daughter, “what a shame dad, mom, it makes me sad to hear you. Were you not aware of anything, when on those dates there were thousands of young people struggling to build a more just, more human, more beautiful world?” In contrast, how marvelous it would be if that day you can tell them, “I was there with all those young people working for a better world” And how beautiful and nice for you it would be to then hear your son or daughter say to you, “wow, I feel very proud of you! How I admire you!” This marvelous moment that could occur in a few years you need to be preparing for now.
Three years ago while presenting the book of my memoirs in Spain, that had also been edited in Madrid, I was asked this question by a person in the auditorium in the city of Granada: “how can you be a man of hope after all the political disappointments that you have had in this last stage of your life?” I told him that my hope was not based on theories, but it was based on the youth. I have worked with them for 45 years, and I know very well all the enormous interior strength and great wealth that exists inside a young person. What I have to say comes from real life experiences, not stories, I have been there with them for years, and I have shared with them the marvelous works that they have done, on many occasions, even heroic works, for the transformation of society, in seeking a more just and caring world. And I told him this phrase, “My hope is that the youth will take to the streets again to make history.”
This phrase was published in a newspaper in the city of Granada, Spain. Later El Nuevo Diario published it in Managua. Later on the Jean Paul Genie Avenue in Managua a billboard was being prepared for commercial publicity – the frame was up with a sheet of flat zinc on it – and someone with black spray paint wrote on it, “my hope is that the youth would take to the streets again to make history. Fernando Cardenal.” It remained there for a year and a half. That is a very busy avenue and so thousands and thousands of Nicaraguans were able to see it. A friend of mine took a picture of the sign, framed it and brought it to my office. A young Canadian painter from Toronto, who left his steady job with Greater Toronto Painters, worked for two years as a volunteer in the University of the Jesuits in Managua saw the picture, returned to Madrid and some months ago wrote me an email that said, “I am in the streets of Madrid with the “indignados” making history”. We know that in many cities of Spain and in many cities of Europe and in many cities of the United States there are young people in the streets protesting over what the bankers are doing, making themselves even wealthier millionaires while the poor are losing their jobs and their homes. It is in youth like these that I have placed my hope.
Given that in a year and a half I will turn 80, I want to tell you that these things that I have been talking about are not highly worked theories from my brain, they come from pure living, it is my own life that I have placed before you, and I testify that in these 60 years I have of being at the service to others as a Jesuit, and in the 42 years I have of being at the service of the poorest of society, the “Ochlos”, I have found pure happiness. This has not been something passing, occasional, but for many, many years, it has been an ongoing experience! I want you to be very happy, with a profound and ongoing happiness, just as I have been happy. The issue at the heart of all my words in this message is happiness, this is the testament that I want to leave you: “my happiness”, that you might be very happy.
I say good by with a strong embrace full of respect and love, as well as a lot of hope.
Fernando Cardenal, S.J.
As is true in many aspects of our lives, the difficulties of the truth lie not in the knowing, but in the doing….
Recently I was describing some of the work in which Winds of Peace is involved in Nicaragua to an acquaintance. I tried to paint a verbal picture of the cooperative involved and I referred to the organization as our “partner.” The reference seemed to confuse my listener; for a moment he thought that I was referring to another funding entity with whom we might be partnering in our support. I explained that we were the sole funders in this case, and that we refer to all funding recipients as our partners. While he eventually understood the distinction, I could tell that he was just a little puzzled by it. I think lots of people are, including many organizations who are in the business of development.
Effective, impactful philanthropy has everything to do with the relationship between donor and recipient. And that relationship is formed from a great deal more than a meeting or two between the principals. It is a dynamic, evolving association which is strengthened through the ongoing give-and-take which all relationships require in order to be healthy. It’s coming to know each other, discovering what this relationship could mean to each party. From the foundation standpoint, it’s accompaniment rather than simply funding.
I have been surprised to learn how little such relationship-building really occurs in the world of some foundation work. We’ve seen it in the inability of some funding organizations to serve as a reference when we have sought to learn from them about a potential recipient. We’ve experienced it when trying to establish opportunities to combine performance information with other funders to establish a “clearinghouse” of data, only to discover that such material isn’t maintained by many funders. And we’ve heard it in the stories told by Nicaraguan partners about how different their relationships can be with other sources of funding. An arm’s-length association may suggest greater independence for the recipient, less interference by the funder, fewer strings attached and less accountability in the end. But if all of those actually occur, then the likelihood of real success and transformation is lessened. Impact isn’t created by money alone. Impact is what we can do with the monetary help together, as partners, as we each provide elements of importance to whatever the endeavor might be. There is a sense of equality which exists between partners that simply doesn’t exist between grantor and grantee.
I read some comments shared through an association of foundations here in the U.S. One writer captured the value of partnership well when he wrote:
Along with money, some of us came to know the grantees on a local and personal level, helping them with our… [own] expertise. We could see the results of our efforts and leverage the dollars beyond anything we would have experienced beyond sending a check in the mail.
My advice to those of us on the grant maker side of the equation, with an interest in leveraging the impact of the size of their grants, is to become more closely involved with those whom we serve. You will never wonder about the effectiveness of your time and treasure. Moreover, the personal rewards you reap are so much larger than any dollar amount you may grant.
The impacts created by Winds of Peace over the years have certainly been tied to the funding which we have been able to provide. But the most heartfelt expressions of appreciation and meaning heard from our partners have all revolved around the Foundation’s ongoing presence in their lives, our acknowledgement of who these people are, our awareness of the circumstances in which they find themselves, and our willingness to stand with them. As partners. We need something from each other in order to achieve the transformations being sought, and one without the other can become either fraud or condescending charity….
